HBIC: A Mafia Story
by Nightsmoke
Summary: When Xanxus doesn't give Tsuna the respect he deserves, Tsuna takes matters into his own hands. Gen. Dominating!Tsuna


All characters © Amano Akira

_Summary: _When Xanxus doesn't show Tsuna the respect he deserves, Tsuna takes matters into his own hands.

* * *

_**HBIC: A Mafia Story**_

To put it simply, Tsuna was having a bad day.

It had all started with Lambo, as most debacles did. The bathroom door that morning had been locked from the inside, which was enough of a problem in and of itself even if everyone in the Sawada household had not been scrambling to get ready for their plane. The upcoming eigtheenth birthdays of Tsuna and his _famiglia_ required them all to attend a legality conference with the rest of the Vongola and the Varia in Naples.

Lambo, who was nine and chose this particular morning to attempt cutting his hair apparently needed his private bathroom time in order to do so. Unfortunately the Sawadas only had one bathroom, and after much screaming from both sides Gokudera had blown down the door with the explosives hanging from his waistbelt. He then apologized and proceeded to write Mrs. Sawada a check for the damages. Tsuna only sighed.

Once the bathroom had been evacuated and Lambo, his hair somewhat uneven, had left it, another problem arose: the coffee machine was broken. Now Tsuna did not drink the stuff, but he knew well that coffee was one of the few things on god's green earth that could arouse any sort of emotional reaction from Reborn. And of course the blame would fall on him somehow, as it always did.

Intent on escaping the wrath of Reborn and his Leon-turned-Beretta, Tsuna drove out to the nearest convenience store to buy a new machine. And, after waiting on line behind an old woman (who had to get the _exact_ amount of change out from her change purse), he arrived back home to find that I-Pin had used his best red tie as a sweat band for her morning training. Someone really needed to tape that girl's glasses to her face, or at least get her some contact lenses.

It took three tries to finally leave the house. The first time, unsuccessful, was for Ryohei's need to use the bathroom once more for good luck. The second was because Yamamoto had forgotten some luggage, and Bianchi insisting they take her home-made bentos was the third.

So with barely enough time to spare, they arrived at the airport, where Hibari joined them. Tsuna smiled, despite the morning's hectic start. A lot had changed in four years. People changed. This, Tsuna mused, was probably why Hibari was braving an airplane full of people to join them.

Baggage check was a disaster. After twenty minutes of stripping off all metal on his person, Gokudera had to calmly explain to security that no, it was not dynamite. They were props for a play he was in. And yes, Yamamoto's _Shigure Kintoki _was part of the act too. Hibari got away with his tonfa because security was too intimidated to stop him. Tsuna was secretly glad that his weapon came in the form of mittens.

It didn't help that the location of their terminal got changed to the other side of the airport.

After another two more bathroom checks and waiting on an obscenely long boarding line, they were all on the plane and ready for takeoff. Thank god for small favors; Reborn saw to it that the group fly in first-class. Hibari probably would have killed them otherwise, as public transportation hardly suited his solitary mien.

Unfortunately in first class the stewards also served champagne and other alcoholic beverages. Ryohei and Yamamoto got drunk, which resulted in Ryohei attempting to sing the Japanese national anthem backwards and Yamamoto harmonizing with him. Tsuna tried to focus on getting some rest, telling himself not to be embarrassed by his guardians. This wasn't the first time he had chanted such an internal mantra.

Unfortunately sleep was impossible for Tsuna. Chrome was aerophobic and held Hibari's arm in a death-grip, which he surprisingly did nothing about. Reborn sipped his espresso calmly as Lambo kept requesting different in-flight films and ringing the call bell. Tsuna's family had little tolerance for each other even when not in a cramped space, and this was a long flight. Scuffles were bound to break out, and Tsuna was not disappointed. After the first ten hours, Gokudera had almost set the curtains on fire, Hibari had been very close to taking out Ryohei's eye, and Tsuna had stopped at least five potential fights.

When the plane finally landed in Naples, Tsuna just wanted to close his eyes and melt into a puddle. He couldn't even go to bed, since Italy was a good eight hours behind Japan, and there was still much to be done.

At the baggage claim, it turned out that about half of their luggage had been stowed on the wrong plane, and their belongings were currently somewhere over Africa. As the family boss, Tsuna spent another two hours with the Italian airlines trying to locate their bags, which resulted in an extra 600 Euros out of his pocket to ship them back.

They took a private car out to the Vongola base, but ended up getting lost. Reborn was doing little to help, implying that the tenth mafia boss should be able to at least find his own headquarters. Lambo was screaming in the back seat about wanting takoyaki, Ryohei, still a little drunk, ended up getting carsick all over Gokudera. That did not end well.

Finally, travel-weary and more than a little frazzled, the tenth generation arrived at their destination. Iemitsu and Shamal greeted them upon their arrival, and, instead of showing them to rooms with soft quilted beds, directed the _others_ to their rooms and told Tsuna that he had to meet with Xanxus immediately to schedule arrangements for the next day.

Which brings us to where we are now, with Tsuna waiting in a branch of the Varia headquarters for Xanxus. Who is late.

Tsuna squeezed the bridge of his nose. He had always thought this gesture to be reserved for older men who suffered from bankruptcy, alcoholism, and migraines. Lately, however, he had been doing this more and more. Tsuna rubbed his bloodshot eyes tiredly, throwing a glance at the door. Xanxus had still not arrived, but Tsuna was not nervous. He no longer cowered before him or the rest of the Varia after becoming _Vongola Decimo_, but their sparse conversations via the communications network were always extremely awkward.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Then twenty. After thirty, Tsuna's brow creased with annoyance. He was, by nature, of a meek disposition and rarely angered, but it had _really_ been a long day.

Thirty-five minutes had inched by before Xanxus strolled in with a plate of what looked like fillet mignon. Tsuna rose and bowed. "Xanxus," he greeted. The latter only grunted in acknowledgment. Without a word he put his feet on the desk before Tsuna and dug in.

"Um, let's go over the forms for the legality conference tomorrow," Tsuna began. "Since we're of age now, my father said we should--"

"Wait, wait a goddamn minute," Xanxus truncated, surveying Tsuna over his plate. "Can't you see I'm eating, trash?"

Tsuna took a deep breath. "I...don't see why you can't eat and listen at the same time," he said quietly. Xanxus merely licked some grease off his finger, not particularly caring what the kid thought he could and couldn't do. If he had bothered to really look at Tsuna, he would have noticed a vein, ever so small, pulsing at the boy's right temple. He would have also noticed those sheep-like brown eyes lose their bovine quality and begin to freeze over, like congealing mud.

"As I was saying, my father has all of our birth certificates compiled, and we need to finalize the Vongola contract. We'll need to go over the finer points of the--"

"Oi, trash," Xanxus pointed to the far end of the room. "Get me a napkin."

That was certainly it. Tsuna, in a quick and fluid movement, reached over and knocked the plate of fillet mignon out of Xanxus's hands. The dish, made of white porcelain, flew a good fifteen feet before crashing to the floor. Bits of steak began to seep through the shattered slivers and stain the carpet. With his other hand Tsuna grabbed the coon-tail at the base of Xanxus's hairline and yanked. Xanxus found himself being jerked within an inch of Sawada Tsunayoshi's face, and his eyes widened. He saw no boy there.

He saw a hitman.

"Now, Xanxus," Tsuna began, his tone almost deceivingly regretful. His face was malignant, however, eyes glittering with a fire completely different from the X-burner. "When I travel for eighteen hours to see you I expect you to be on time. And when I speak, I expect you to listen.

"So I suggest you pay attention to what I have to say," Tsuna continued in that same gray voice, "Unless you want your insides leaking from your ears and mouth, your spleen exploded down your front, and a good part of your intestines jammed so far into your throat that they come back out of a hole in your stomach. If you remember correctly, Xanxus, I defeated you when I was _fourteen._ I can do it again easily."

Xanxus, in one of the rarest moments of humbleness, decided to bite his tongue.

"Oh, and one more thing." Tsuna relinquished his grip on Xanxus's coon-tail. "It's Tsuna. Not trash, scum, or little shit. Sawada Tsunayoshi, the tenth mafia boss of the Vongola."

_The next day..._

"Oi, Tenth," Gokudera whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What is it, Gokudera-kun?" They were just finishing up the conference, and everyone was slowly filing out of the room and into the sunny Italian day.

"Is it just me, or was Xanxus acting strange this afternoon?" Tsuna frowned, and Gokudera went on. "He even called you by your name, that bastard. Did your meeting with him go all right yesterday?"

Tsuna casually tucked a ball-point pen into his pocket. "It actually went quite well, Gokudera-kun," he answered. "Maybe Xanxus is finally acknowledging me as boss."

And he walked away, leaving his right-hand man alone to consider what had prompted such a change of heart. Certainly not anything his winsome, naive Tenth had done, that was for sure.


End file.
